


Caged

by Ruinwyn



Series: Surrender [2]
Category: Big Bang (Band)
Genre: BDSM, Canon, GTOP, M/M, Subspace
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-14
Updated: 2015-04-14
Packaged: 2018-03-22 18:20:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,802
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3738664
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ruinwyn/pseuds/Ruinwyn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes the closet feels more like a cage.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Caged

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Sweetly](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sweetly/gifts).



> Warnings: BDSM, Dom/sub dynamic, rough sex, subspace, spanking, orgasm denial, edging, bondage, blindfold, anal vibrator, male chastity device (cock cage)
> 
> If you don't know what a cock cage is, you can familiarize yourself with them [here](http://thehappypup.com/cock-cages/cb6000-cock-cage/). NSFW.
> 
> Also, the terms 'drop' or 'dropping' refer to dropping into subspace, not sub-drop, which is something different and not so good. Just wanted to clear up any potential confusion.

 

 

 

“So, what’s it like to date G-dragon?  What are you like in love?”

Jiyong blinks at the question, a slow smile curling its way across his face.  “What am I like?” he repeats, just to stall.  “Hmmm…”

The other members are all sitting at his sides, watching him, waiting on his answer.  All but Seunghyun.  Seunghyun’s sitting on the end, staring down at his lap, trying to hide a grin so miniscule that no one would be able to see it anyway.  The MC is smiling at Jiyong like the town gossip while the fans bounce in their seats and whisper excitedly.  

A quiet laugh spills out of him, soft and bashful.  He runs his tongue across his teeth and finally answers, “I guess I’d say I’m devoted?”

“Devoted?”

“Yeah.”  Jiyong gives a single nod.  Devoted.  That’s a good word for him.

“How so?”

Jiyong shrugs one shoulder, shy at being put on the spot.  Seunghyun’s two seats over, still staring down at his lap.  Jiyong’s eyes are drawn to him like paperclips to a magnet, but he does his best to resist the pull. 

“I just am,” Jiyong says.  “I’d do anything for the one I love.”

He nearly says more, how he truly does mean _anything_ , any request, any demand, anything at all, but he bites his tongue and swallows those words before they can get out.  It wouldn’t do him any good to let those things slip.

People call it a closet, but honestly, Jiyong feels more like it’s a cage.  He has to watch what he does, watch what he says, and he’s powerless to escape.

 

 

After their next concert, Jiyong tries to catch Seunghyun’s eye as they’re leaving the stage, but his hyung’s too busy pretending to beat up Daesung to notice.  Jiyong masks his disappointment with a beaming smile and waves one last time to the fans.

There’s a camera waiting for them in the hallway backstage, along with a whole slew of people seeking to congratulate them, and any further attempt at attracting Seunghyun’s attention gets swallowed up in the crowd.

Jiyong smiles and bows and gently claps his hands for the dancers and the band, and a few pictures later, he’s finally allowed back into the relative privacy of the dressing room.  But that doesn’t help him at all.  Seunghyun has his own place to change so Jiyong won’t see him until he’s done.

But as soon as they’re reunited, they’re ushered out of the building and into separate cars, and Jiyong feels disappointed all over again.  It’s stupid, he knows.  He shouldn’t be this needy.  He and Seunghyun are _together_.  This distance in front of the cameras is just something they have to deal with.

But sometimes he can’t help it.  Sometimes he feels like he spends his whole life waiting for Seunghyun to look his way, like a wraith, fading in and out along the periphery, only becoming real when Seunghyun’s eyes are on him.  It’s pathetic, but Jiyong doesn’t know how to live any other way.

When they get to the nightclub they’re endorsing, Jiyong puts himself on autopilot and goes about the motions.  There are hands to shake and connections to form and attention he needs from people other than Seunghyun.  Even so, he watches Seunghyun out of the corner of his eye the entire night.  He’s never been very good at controlling himself.

Women flock to Seunghyun on the VIP level of the club.  Women with tight dresses and painted lips and invitations in their smiles.  Seunghyun’s not even doing anything to earn their attention.  He’s just sitting on the sofa, smoking his cigarette, when they wisp in around him.  Jiyong gets it.  Seunghyun is handsome and alluring, and Jiyong totally understands why these girls want him to take notice.  But that doesn’t mean he isn’t annoyed by it.  He sniffs in irritation as Seunghyun gives them polite smiles and lets them snap pictures with him.

It’s moments like this that Jiyong wishes they could just come out.  He wishes he could stamp his name across Seunghyun’s throat and ward all these leeches away.

His hackles rise when a girl rests a dainty hand on Seunghyun’s knee, but he calms back down when he sees Seunghyun subtly shrug her off. 

Jiyong stares down at the floor through the bottom of his glass as he tries to ease the helpless ache in his stomach.  This is the life they signed up for.  Seunghyun’s just doing the best he can.

Some of his sadness must permeate the air around him because the next thing he knows, he has a new companion at his side using that sadness as an invitation to come near and cheer him up.

“You look like you could use another drink.” 

Jiyong recognizes him as the owner of the club.  He’s middle-aged with a confident smile and a tailored suit that hides the slight pudge around his middle.

Jiyong immediately fits his smile back into place.  He’s supposed to be working.  “Sure.  Thank you.”

The man gives him another drink and an appreciative gaze to go along with it, and Jiyong smiles and pretends he’s flattered.  He gets attention like this all the time.  From older men who aren’t nearly as into their wives as they should be, who want to sidle up to him and flirt with what could’ve been.  Mostly, Jiyong indulges them.  So when the man leans in and whispers a corny joke about not being able to hold his liquor, Jiyong laughs, the back of his hand fluttering up to cover his mouth.

His eyes slide back over to Seunghyun out of habit, and his heart thumps at what he finds there.  Seunghyun is staring right at him.  Their eyes lock and hold.  The color bleeds back into the room at the same time as the air pulls out of it, and everything suddenly feels more real, the drink in his hand and the ground beneath his feet.  A tiny bead of sweat rolls down the back of Jiyong’s neck.

Jiyong leans into his new companion and trembles as Seunghyun’s gaze darkens.  He holds that gaze for as long as he can, stretching the moment with a slow raking of teeth across his bottom lip.  Seunghyun narrows in on the motion and then abruptly looks away.

But instead of fading back into the background, Jiyong stays lined in stark relief, the world around him still spinning with lush, saturated color.  Because even though Seunghyun’s not looking, Jiyong can feel that he’s _aware_.  Jiyong still has his attention.

The club owner smiles at the new light in Jiyong’s eyes, thinking he’s the cause of it.  He tries for another joke, smiling even wider when Jiyong laughs and nudges at his shoulder.

Seunghyun tenses at the sound of Jiyong’s laughter.  He still isn’t looking at him, but his grip has tightened around the neck of his beer, the bottle suspended halfway between the table and his lips.  An agitated muscle slides along his jaw before he brings the bottle the rest of the way up and takes a healthy swig.  Jiyong doesn’t even try to hide how smug he feels. 

When they’re finally able to leave, Seunghyun’s car gets back to the hotel first.  Jiyong tries to catch up to him, but by the time he makes it through the crowd of fans at the entrance, Seunghyun’s already tucked away in the elevator. 

Jiyong sighs and takes the next car up.  Soonho follows along, carrying Jiyong’s oversized bag.  They get to his suite where the rest of his luggage is already waiting for him. 

“Do you need anything else?” Soonho asks.  His smile is just as bright as it was this morning when he was far less tired.

“No, I’m good.”  Jiyong dismisses the offer as soon as it’s made but then realizes he _does_ need something.  “Which room is Hyung’s?”  He didn’t get a chance to ask Seunghyun earlier.

“Oh, right.”  Soonho pats down his pockets before coming up with the duplicate copy of Seunghyun’s keycard.  “Here you go.”  He doesn’t tell Jiyong to be discreet even though it looks like he wants to.

Jiyong waits a few minutes after Soonho leaves before following him out the door.  It’s familiar, skulking through hotel hallways in the middle of the night.  He wonders if Seunghyun’s still waiting up for him or if he’s already curled up in bed.

Once Jiyong finds the right room number, he looks down one end of the hallway and then the other, making sure there are no accidental witnesses.  Then he slides the card into the slot and watches as the little light turns green.

He checks the hall one last time before slipping inside the dimly lit room.  He barely makes it two steps in before a hand darts out and seizes him by the hair.  His throat bobs at the sound of leather creaking around a tightening fist.

Gloves.

Seunghyun pushes the door shut and locks it with a slow, resolute click.  He turns those same dark eyes from earlier Jiyong’s way.  “Do you remember the safeword?”

Seunghyun seems to take up all the space in the room, his dark shirt from the club stretched over an imposing chest.  Jiyong’s heart thumps all the way up in his throat.  He nods. 

Seunghyun tugs back on his hair hard enough to hurt.  “ _Good._ ” 

Seunghyun leads him to the bed by the hair, Jiyong stumbling as they go.  Once they’re at the foot of it, Seunghyun takes him by the hips and shoves him around like a ragdoll, pushing him until he’s facing away and then tugging him back so his back is cradled against Seunghyun’s front.

The sound of Seunghyun’s voice is enough to turn Jiyong’s legs to jelly.  “You did that _on purpose_ ,” Seunghyun accuses.  His hips pitch forward to grind against Jiyong’s ass.  “You were trying to make me _jealous_.”

Jiyong’s head falls back into the curve of Seunghyun’s shoulder, breathless.  “Did it work?”

Seunghyun yanks Jiyong’s hips back, driving forward at the same time.  “What do you think?”  Jiyong’s mouth falls open at the sharp press of Seunghyun’s cock.

Jiyong doesn’t get to tell him what he thinks, though.  Seunghyun starts groping him through his clothes and mouthing his way down Jiyong’s throat, and all Jiyong can do is melt in his arms while it happens.  A greedy hand slides up under the front of his shirt and pinches roughly at his nipples.  He hisses at the feel of leather scraping over his skin.

“What were you even thinking?” Seunghyun says.  “He can’t give you what you need.”  Jiyong whimpers as Seunghyun demonstrates his point, firm hands laying siege to his body, taking ownership of him in a way that no one else would know to do.  He sinks back into Seunghyun’s arms and sighs.

“Tell me you don’t want him,” Seunghyun orders. 

“I don’t want him.  I don’t want anyone but you.”  Jiyong bites down on his lip and pushes his ass back, trying to catch Seunghyun’s cock where he wants it.

Seunghyun bruises Jiyong’s hips with his thumbs and forces him to be still.  “What makes you think you deserve it?  You’ve hardly been good.”

Jiyong’s lips press hard together, thoughts arcing wildly to land on a new desire, one that ends with him on his knees with punishing hands against his flesh.

“You know what this means, don’t you?” Seunghyun whispers darkly into his ear.  “You know what happens when you’re not good.”

Jiyong _does_ know.  And god help him, he craves it.  _Aches_ for it.  His thighs slide together in anticipation, muscles quivering in that split second between Seunghyun making the threat and seeing it through.

Seunghyun pushes him back around to face him and seizes hold of his chin, swooping in to plunder his mouth.  Jiyong moans around Seunghyun’s tongue.  Seunghyun kisses him like he _owns_ him, slick heat scorching the inside of his mouth, hot enough to brand his tongue, and Jiyong surrenders to it, curls his fingers into Seunghyun’s shirt and offers himself up.

When Seunghyun finally breaks away, Jiyong’s left wanting.  He sways forward with parted lips, desperate for Seunghyun to kiss him again, but Seunghyun pushes his thumb against the fullness of Jiyong’s lip and denies him.  Seunghyun takes a step back and slowly sinks down onto the edge of the bed, his gaze hot and heavy the whole way down.  Jiyong’s skin hums under the weight of that gaze, gasping when Seunghyun takes hold of his hips and maneuvers him right where he wants him.  Seunghyun pops open Jiyong’s fly and tugs his pants halfway down his legs, and then he pulls him facedown over his lap. 

Jiyong flushes at the way his bare bottom is suddenly pushed up and exposed.  It’s far from the first time he’s been in this position, but it still makes his heart thud in embarrassed excitement, a reaction Seunghyun knows all too well.  Seunghyun’s gloved hand runs over Jiyong’s bare cheek before giving it a firm squeeze.

Jiyong hisses at the first slap.  The first is always a shock, no matter how many times they do this.  It rocks through his whole body, surprising him with how much he likes it, how much he _needs_ it.  Seunghyun swats him again, and Jiyong ruts forward with the blow. 

“I should tie you up,” Seunghyun says.  “Keep you tied to my bed so you can’t get into any more mischief.”

Jiyong’s eyes screw shut at the thought.  Naked and bound and vulnerable, just waiting for Seunghyun to come in and make use of him.

“Or better yet,” Seunghyun continues as if they’re having a conversation, punctuated by his hand striking Jiyong’s tender bottom.  “I should spread you out on the bar next time.  Spread you out and fuck you while everyone watches.  Show everyone who you belong to.”  Seunghyun kneads one rosy cheek.  “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

Jiyong keens as Seunghyun fingers dip between his cheeks.  “ _Yes_.” 

Fuck.  Seunghyun’s words are smoky tendrils, curling around his nose and mouth and flooding their way in.  They pour through his limbs and up to his brain where he’s already woozy from lust.  It’s all he can see now, Seunghyun undressing him in the middle of the club, bending him over and sinking into him while everyone watches.  While those _women_ watch, those women from earlier who thought they stood a chance at stealing his hyung away.  He wants _them_ to see who really belongs to whom.

“ _Please_ ,” Jiyong whimpers.

Seunghyun strikes him harder this time.  “I didn’t tell you to speak.”

Jiyong bites down on his lip.  His cock is hard and swollen, trapped against Seunghyun’s lap.  He thrusts uselessly against Seunghyun’s thigh to relieve the ache, but all he gets for his effort is another swat to his left cheek.  Seunghyun smacks him one last time, hard enough that Jiyong feels the pressure of it all the way up inside him, right where he’s desperate for Seunghyun’s cock to be, and then he grabs Jiyong by the scruff of the neck and forces him back to his feet.

“On the bed,” he orders.

It takes a minute for Jiyong to comply, legs shaky and jointless as he shifts his weight back onto them.  He starts to crawl onto the bed but apparently not fast enough because Seunghyun grabs hold of his hips and shoves him the rest of the way on.  He doesn’t have time to register anything else before his face is planted against the mattress, hands tugged behind his back.  He hears the sound of a zipper followed by a bottle being uncapped, and then Seunghyun’s mounting him. 

Jiyong grunts at the sudden intrusion.  So much, so soon.  Jiyong’s empty one moment and brimming full the next.  He doesn’t even have a chance to acclimate before Seunghyun’s pounding into him.  He has the brief thought that this would hurt if they didn’t have sex so often, but it evaporates from his mind as quickly as it comes, his ability to think punctured by the cock ramming into him.

He tugs a little on his arms to test Seunghyun’s grip on him, but all that does is make Seunghyun squeeze his wrists together even harder, the fine bones rolling against a sturdy palm.  Jiyong tries to grind back against him, but Seunghyun has one hand wrapped around his wrists and the other flattened down between his shoulder blades, and the only thing he can manage is to clamp his eyes shut and _take it_.

Jiyong gets lost in the haze of it.  His body rocks with the power of Seunghyun’s thrusts, loud moans tearing out of his throat each time Seunghyun’s hips snap forward.  He forgets that they’re in a hotel room, forgets that he needs to be quiet, but Seunghyun remembers for him, a gloved hand sliding over his mouth to muffle him.  Jiyong groans into Seunghyun’s palm, the wet sound of their joining overtaking his smothered cries.

His orgasm takes him by surprise.  Seunghyun lets go of his wrists to wrap around his middle, and at the first sweep of leather over his cock, Jiyong spasms forward and comes.  He grunts hard against the hand over his mouth as Seunghyun drives into him one last time.

Jiyong groans in protest as Seunghyun gently fucks into him to milk himself of the last of his come.  Seunghyun chuckles and does it again, just to watch him squirm.

“Sensitive?” he whispers.  Jiyong can hear the smile in his voice.

He hums his discomfort, and Seunghyun finally pulls out.  Jiyong rolls over onto his side once he’s free, mindful of the wet spot, and Seunghyun stretches out alongside him. 

And this just might be Jiyong’s favorite part.  The way Seunghyun’s touch changes from possessive to protective, the openness that can only be found in moments like these, in between Seunghyun tearing him down and putting him back together.  Jiyong blossoms under the tender affection in Seunghyun’s gaze, and unlike earlier, his hyung never looks away.

“Did I hurt you?”  A gentle thumb brushes over Jiyong’s cheekbone. 

Jiyong knows he’s not the only one who needs to be taken care of after the kinds of things they do.  Seunghyun often seems just as fragile.  “No more than I wanted you to,” Jiyong whispers. 

Seunghyun shifts a bit to tug his gloves off with his teeth, and then his hands are back on him, gentle and feather-light, an obvious contrast to the harshness from before.  Their breaths mingle together as Seunghyun soothes him with his touch.

Jiyong’s hands creep over Seunghyun’s chest.  “You know I don’t really want any other guys, right?”  He says it even though it doesn’t need to be said.

Seunghyun touches his cheek again.  “I know.”

 

 

Jiyong’s never been especially private about his sex life.  Not with his friends, anyway.  He’s teased Seungri on more than one occasion about what it’s like to suck a guy’s dick.

But there are some things he just doesn’t know how to talk about.  That doesn’t stop Chaerin from trying to pry information out of him, though.  She’s been inordinately interested in his sex life ever since Seunghyun made his quip about the riding crop.

“Does he tie you up?”  Chaerin sips at her latte while they both wait for their food to come out.

“Shut up,” Jiyong tells her, laughing.  “People might be listening.”

She looks around at the mostly vacant café.  “What people?”

Jiyong follows her gaze and sees that she’s right.  There’s no one around.  He still doesn’t answer her, though.

“Come on,” Chaerin pushes at his arm.  “Tell me.”

He cracks a smile, shy in the face of her eagerness.  “Sometimes.”

She squeals excitedly.  “What does he use?  Rope?  Handcuffs?”

Jiyong shrugs.  “It depends.”

“On what?”

“I don’t know, on the situation.”  Jiyong’s not about to go into all of this with her.  He’s not about to tell her how Seunghyun likes the burn of a rope on Jiyong’s wrists or the rattle of the handcuffs as Jiyong strains against them.

Chaerin pouts when she realizes she’s not going to get any more than that, but then her eyes take on a devilish gleam.  “Does he talk dirty to you?  It’s kinda hard for me to picture.”

Jiyong’s tongue curls along the side of his upper lip.  “You’d be surprised.”

“Really?” she smiles, intrigued.  Her nose scrunches up a little.  “Like what does he say?”

Jiyong laughs, close-lipped and through his nose.  He shakes his head and doesn’t answer.  It feels too intimate, somehow, to tell her.  More than the gloves, more than his cock, Seunghyun’s voice is the most potent weapon in his arsenal.  Seunghyun hasn’t always been so confident wielding it – too shy, too self-conscious – but now it comes easily, the commands, the filth, describing in no uncertain terms exactly what he intends to do, the way he makes Jiyong beg him to follow through with it.  He does it all with the comfort born of practice.

Chaerin chews at her lip, considering.  Probably trying to figure out how to pry more information out of him.  Then she asks, “How big is he?”

Jiyong barks out a surprised laugh.  He takes a drink so he can hide his embarrassment behind the rim of his cup.  “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

Chaerin grins, utterly shameless.  “At least tell me _something._ ”

Jiyong hums around his drink, considering what he might tell her.  Normally, he revels in the chance to talk about Seunghyun because it’s something he rarely gets to do.  But now that he has the chance, he doesn’t know what to say.  The things he and Seunghyun do behind closed doors seem too big, too precious, to possibly fit into words. 

That and he’s afraid Chaerin just won’t get it.  She’s interested in this because of the sensationalism of it.  He doesn’t know how to make her understand that it’s really so much more.

Jiyong gathers those thoughts back to himself and pushes them down.  He rolls his cup back and forth between his hands before making a small concession, a tiny smirk twitching at his lips.  “Well, he spanks me when I’m bad.” 

Chaerin’s grin grows even wider, her eyes sparkling at his confession.  “Wow.  He must spank you _a lot_.”

Jiyong giggles.  He nods and takes another drink.

 

 

The next time Jiyong goes over to Seunghyun’s house, he finds him studying an instruction manual next to a nondescript little box on the sofa.  Seunghyun looks up at the sound of Jiyong letting himself in.

“What are you doing?” Jiyong asks, plopping down next to him.  He can’t quite see what’s in the box.

There’s an interesting quality to the grin Seunghyun giving him, an intriguing mix of mischief and self-consciousness.  “I got you something.”

Jiyong’s both eager and wary at that.  While he loves getting presents, he doesn’t know what to expect based on Seunghyun’s expression.  Normally Seunghyun gets him things like jewelry or shoes or even lingerie, but Jiyong has a feeling that this is something different.

“What is it?”  Jiyong tries to peer over Seunghyun’s lap to see into the box.

Seunghyun’s chuckle is nearly a giggle.  Now Jiyong’s _really_ curious.

Wordlessly, Seunghyun hands him the box.  Jiyong’s brows furrow once he gets a look at what’s inside.  There’s a small, hollow cylinder in the shape of a penis, as well as a smooth plastic ring and a number of other pieces.  “What the hell is this?”

Seunghyun laughs.  “It’s a cock cage.”

“A what?”

“A chastity device,” he clarifies.  “I figured you would know, considering how into this stuff you are.”

Jiyong looks back at the stuff in the box.  Is he supposed to wear this?

“I was thinking about the little show you gave me the other night in the club, with that guy.  I think I’ve been far too lenient with you.”

Jiyong studies Seunghyun’s face for any hint that he was actually bothered by that.  It was harmless, just some middle-aged guy who obviously wasn’t a threat, but Jiyong won’t tease him again if Seunghyun doesn’t like it.  Sometimes Jiyong likes to push, and he forgets that pushing can cause things to break.

But Seunghyun doesn’t look bothered.  There’s a playful light in his eyes as he takes the ring out of the box.  “Do you trust me?”

“Yes,” Jiyong says immediately.  He doesn’t even have to think about it.

Seunghyun smiles to himself, pleased.  “Then pull down your pants.”

Jiyong sinks his teeth into his lower lip before moving to do as Seunghyun says, opening his fly and lifting his hips off the sofa to push his pants down.  Seunghyun pulls out a bottle of lubricant and kneels at his feet. 

“It’s easier to put on with this,” Seunghyun says, swiping a gentle layer of gel over Jiyong’s soft cock.  Jiyong’s hips pulse forward in interest.

It takes a minute to get the device on.  Seunghyun’s far more careful than what’s probably necessary.  The ring locks behind his testicles, similar to the cock rings they’ve experimented with.  When Seunghyun starts to slide the chastity encasement over his penis, Jiyong has to close his eyes and think of quarreling ahjummas so he doesn’t get hard.

Once the device is fit together, Seunghyun locks it in place with the tiny padlock that came along with it.  Jiyong’s lips quirk at how ridiculous he feels with his dick shoved into this thing. 

The last thing Seunghyun pulls out of the box is a little key.  He strings it onto a thin silver chain and fastens it around his neck.  The key to Jiyong’s freedom sparkles against Seunghyun’s chest. 

“Now what?” Jiyong asks.

“Now maybe you’ll remember who you belong to.” 

It hits Jiyong hard, the acknowledgement of his belonging.  The only thing he wants more than to belong to Seunghyun is for Seunghyun to belong to _him_.

Jiyong slides further down in his seat and spreads his legs.  “How long do I have to wear it?”

Seunghyun sucks a bruise into the inner curve of Jiyong’s thigh, just above his tattoo.  “However long I want.”

The device is made for longevity, Jiyong can see.  There’s a slot at the end for him to piss and vents at the side for cleaning, but even so, he doubts Seunghyun intends for him to wear it very long.  Though the device is small, it would still be noticeable underneath his pants and they have a photoshoot tomorrow.

Seunghyun’s hands slide over Jiyong’s thighs as his mouth slides closer to their apex.  “I think I’m gonna like this,” Seunghyun murmurs.  “No more misbehaving from you.  You wouldn’t get anything out of it even if you tried.”

Jiyong never _would_ try, but the thought that he can’t, that his ability to come is now under Seunghyun’s complete control, is a heady realization.  His cock stirs to life.  Except Seunghyun’s right, Jiyong _can’t_ do anything.  The cock cage presses in around him, preventing him from getting fully hard.  It’s not painful, but it’s _there_ , rubbing against him, teasing him with what he can no longer have.

“Hyung,” he breathes.

A press of lips against his skin, “Shhh.”

Jiyong’s hips roll uselessly as Seunghyun continues his ministrations.  He thrusts up, an insistent plea for Seunghyun to put his mouth where Jiyong really wants it, a plea that’s met with nothing but air.

“Turn over,” Seunghyun murmurs instead, helping Jiyong to turn around and kneel on the cushion of the couch, his pants still caught around his ankles.  Jiyong grips the back of the couch as the warmth of Seunghyun’s mouth presses against him, a gentle tease against the plump part of his cheek before two broad hands are spreading him open.

Seunghyun licks a hot stripe right up the seam of him, and Jiyong quivers, arching his back and pushing his ass back in a demand for more.  Seunghyun buries his tongue between Jiyong’s cheeks and gives him exactly what he’s asking for.  His mouth works against him, lapping at him with his tongue, humming and suckling eagerly at his hole.  His hands alternate between stroking and kneading Jiyong’s cheeks.

Jiyong bends the rest of the way over and plants his forehead against the back of the couch.  “ _Please_ ,” he begs.  He’s so turned on, but he can’t even finish getting hard.  He’ll never be able to come like this.  “ _Please_.”

Seunghyun just keeps at it, spearing into him with his tongue.  He gets Jiyong worked up to the point that his ass is bobbing back against his face, needy sounds barely muffled against the couch.

And then he stops.  Seunghyun gets up and plops back down beside him on the couch like he hasn’t a care in the world, like his chin isn’t still wet with the evidence of where it’s been.

Jiyong blinks at him.  “That’s it?”

Seunghyun grins and nods once, and then he uses the remote to turn on the TV.  Jiyong rolls back over in his seat.  Seunghyun must be joking.

Except they’ve been doing this long enough for Jiyong to know he _isn’t_ joking.  Seunghyun’s patience for this rivals even the most dedicated fangirl camping out before their concerts.  When Jiyong had suggested experimenting with this kind of relationship, he hadn’t banked on Seunghyun’s penchant for mischief.  He slumps down in his seat and pouts.

When he’s sure his hyung isn’t about to back down, he moves to pull up his pants. 

“Leave them,” Seunghyun says, still watching the TV.  He rests his hand over Jiyong’s bare thigh and lets his fingers curl into the dip between his legs.  Jiyong’s leg looks tiny under the breadth of Seunghyun’s palm.  The cage feels awkward and heavy on his cock despite its light weight, but he tries to settle back and keep his mind off it.  He tries to focus in on the TV, but his gaze keeps swaying over to Seunghyun, dipping from his mouth to the key and back again.

Seunghyun winds up settling on some artsy German film.  Jiyong wonders if, in some art-loving, chair-collecting part of Seunghyun’s brain, this constitutes as a _reward_.  As if it’s a generous thing Seunghyun’s doing, making Jiyong sit through this film.

Jiyong’s pout deepens as he presses his face against Seunghyun’s shoulder, and Seunghyun wraps his arm around Jiyong and gives him a little squeeze.  Normally, Jiyong loves to cuddle, but now cuddling feels like torture, like Seunghyun’s arms are just as much of a cage as the one on is dick.

Because Jiyong wants to _fuck_.  He wants to slide his hand along his cock until he comes.  He wants to ride Seunghyun while he does it.  The urge is making him crazy, like an itch in the very center of his back that he just can’t reach to scratch, ever present and needling in its urgency.

But Seunghyun just keeps smiling that knowing smile and refuses to do anything about it.  When Jiyong starts chewing on his thumbnail and fidgeting in his seat, Seunghyun chuckles and draws Jiyong’s hands over to his chest where he can hold them captive.  That’s probably for the best; Jiyong was about ready to pull his hair out.

The movie plays in front of him, all the subtitles blurring together.  He shifts in his seat to get more comfortable, then immediately shifts again.  His hands ball into fists beneath Seunghyun’s palms, burning to be free. 

All his attention is focused right on his cock.  He keeps trying to ignore it, to forget that the cage is there, but it’s not working.  The knowledge of it hangs over his head with a mocking smile.  Jiyong knows he thinks a lot about sex, but now it’s _all_ he can think about, his brain alight with frenzied neurons, with no button for turning them off.  The weight of the cage is unbearable now, claustrophobic in its caress. 

Jiyong shifts one hand within Seunghyun’s grip and feels the cool touch of metal.  _The_ _key_.  Jiyong feels compelled to touch it, like Sleeping Beauty drawn to the spindle, but the moment he has it between his fingers, Seunghyun tightens his hold.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Seunghyun says, eyes still on the screen.

“Nothing,” Jiyong says, at once acting innocent.  “Just fixing the chain.”

“I think the chain’s fine.”

“Really?  It looks uncomfortable.  You should let me hang on to it.”

Seunghyun’s lips twitch.  “Nice try.”

Jiyong’s eyes drop to those lips.  He wants Seunghyun so bad he’s salivating.  The key burns in his hand, a hot, itchy sliver he’s reluctant to let go of. 

And Seunghyun’s _still not looking at him_.

He’s holding Jiyong’s hands against his chest, paying all his attention to the film.  It eats further away at that hollowed pit inside of Jiyong, the one that’s always desperate and hungry, maw wide open for the attention he never seems to get, not in the quantities he wants it. 

Usually, Jiyong’s a good sport about these games – they’re fun, and he likes how flirty Seunghyun gets when they play – but today…today he’s not up for it.  He doesn’t want to see just how easy it is for Seunghyun to ignore him.  He doesn’t want to see how long Seunghyun can last without looking his way.  It feels far too much like their reality for Jiyong to handle today.

“Is this movie really more interesting than me?” he says, sullen, and with a bite to it he instantly wishes he could take back, not because he doesn’t mean it but because it makes him feel more pathetic than he already does.

Seunghyun finally looks his way, only now, Jiyong can’t bring himself to look back.  His eyes fall to his lap where the cage is still locked around him.  He studies the way it looks, the way the padlock holds it together.  He isn’t even remotely hard anymore.

And then a warm hand is sliding against his face, forming a cradle for his cheek.  Jiyong closes his eyes and leans into the touch.

“Everything okay?”

The safeword flashes across Jiyong’s mind.  He can say it right now and put an end to this game.  Except he doesn’t want that, not exactly.  He wants a shift, not an end.

He winds up not having to say anything.  Seunghyun’s face gentles into something like understanding.  “Would you rather I watch you?”

Jiyong doesn’t nod, but then, he doesn’t have to.  His pulse flutters eagerly under Seunghyun’s thumb.

“Then give me a reason to.”

The dark silk of Seunghyun’s voice is enough to tamp his insecurities back down.  Jiyong comes alive under Seunghyun’s gaze, limbs turning graceful and sinuous as he moves to obey, as he presents himself as something worth watching.  He peels away the rest of his clothes, holds Seunghyun’s gaze as he pulls his shirt up over his head and finds it again once the fabric is fluttering to the floor.  Seunghyun’s pupils darken with interest.  It’s all Jiyong wants, to be able to hold Seunghyun’s attention, to be enough for it not to sway.

Naked of all but the cage around his cock, Jiyong crawls into Seunghyun’s lap.  He locks eyes with Seunghyun for a hot, feverish moment before leaning in towards his mouth.  Their lips meet and then their tongues.  Jiyong pushes all the yearning he can into the kiss just to feel Seunghyun’s answer to it.

When they break away, Jiyong starts sliding his way down, mapping his progress with his lips.  He mouths at Seunghyun through the material of his shirt, digs his thumb into a covered nipple.  Seunghyun’s chest rises and falls as his breathing speeds up.  Jiyong loves Seunghyun’s chest, loves the way it fills out his suits.

He doesn’t get to stay there long, though.  Seunghyun’s hands are pushing him down, down, rocking his pelvis up to speed Jiyong along.  Jiyong pushes Seunghyun’s shirt up and dips his tongue into his navel as he passes over it, and then he’s pulling out Seunghyun’s cock. 

Jiyong suckles him to hardness, humming in appreciation once he’s fully erect.  His cheeks hollow out as his head bobs over Seunghyun’s lap.  Each time he pulls up, he pays special attention to the head. 

Jiyong moans when Seunghyun pets his hair.  “That’s it,” Seunghyun says.  “Just like that.”

Jiyong sucks him even harder, his tongue working over him to keep him good and wet and slick.  Jiyong loves doing this, because he’s _good_ at it, because Seunghyun loves it just as much. 

“So good,” Seunghyun half-pants, and Jiyong knows then that he has him.  He speeds up, forcing his head down to take more in, lets the vibrations from his moans push Seunghyun that much closer to the edge.  The salt of his precome spreads over the flat of Jiyong’s tongue.

Jiyong doesn’t let up until Seunghyun catches him by the hair and pulls him up off his cock.  Jiyong slides his mouth off him with an obscene _pop_.

“Get on,” Seunghyun says, bucking up toward Jiyong’s mouth.  His cock bobs against Jiyong’s well-used lips.

Jiyong feels the command all the way down in his belly.  He nods his head, scrambling back into Seunghyun’s lap.  He reaches for the bottle of lube from earlier, slicks himself and Seunghyun’s shaft once he has it in hand.

Jiyong’s mouth falls open as he sinks down on him, blissful at being filled.  He pushes Seunghyun back against the sofa, and for the first time in ages, Seunghyun lets himself be pushed, lets Jiyong have this small modicum of control.

Jiyong has no patience for any kind of buildup; his hips take off at a gallop, rising and falling urgently in Seunghyun’s lap.  His hands catch on a broad set of shoulders as he continues to gasp and bounce.  It feels so _good_ , yet beyond maddening.  Jiyong rides him to the point where he’d normally come and keeps riding him far past that, only he’s locked in neutral with the engine revving, and he just can’t seem to get anywhere.  The fucking cage is still locked around his cock, barely allowing him to harden much less come, and no matter how hard he rocks and grinds and mashes their lower halves together, it’s still there, taunting him. 

Jiyong clutches at Seunghyun and lets out a near sob, hips swiveling in frantic circles over Seunghyun’s lap.  He trembles and quakes under Seunghyun’s heated gaze.

“Come on,” Seunghyun coaxes, pushing up into him.  “ _Come_ _on_.”

Come on _where?_   There’s nowhere for Jiyong to go.  He’s climbed as high as he can climb.

“Please.  _Hyung._ ”  He rolls his forehead against Seunghyun’s, groans as Seunghyun’s cock shifts inside him.  “I can’t.  Fuck, I _can’t_ –”

He scrabbles at Seunghyun’s shoulders and pumps his hips a few more times and then buries his nose against Seunghyun’s throat and comes.

He feels it throughout his whole body, the wave of it building and cresting before slamming into him and dragging him under.  He throws his arms around Seunghyun’s neck and clings to him as he shudders through it.  His heart knocks against his chest even as he tightens his hold, hands clutching at whatever he can reach while he pants into Seunghyun’s sweat-damp hair.

“You’re so hot,” Seunghyun whispers, fingers tracing slick patterns up and down Jiyong’s spine.

Jiyong clings to him even harder.  “You make me that way.”

He nuzzles at Seunghyun’s jaw, along his cheek, inhales deeply through his nose once his mouth finds its way to Seunghyun’s.  Their kiss is filthy, just like the sex before it.  Seunghyun’s tongue slides against his drunkenly, slow and thorough and with no mind for anything else.  They’re a mess of sweat and come, but Jiyong’s just not ready to move, yet. 

When Seunghyun finally breaks away, it’s to slide the chain up over his head.  He fits the key into Jiyong’s lock, and the cage separates.  They both laugh a little as Seunghyun pulls the pieces away and mops up the mess with some tissues.

Once Jiyong’s mostly cleaned up, Seunghyun pulls him back against his chest.  He runs his hands up and down Jiyong’s back.  And then he asks, “Do you wanna talk about what happened back there?”

Jiyong bites down on his lip.  He feels silly for letting Seunghyun’s game bother him now.  “No, it’s okay.  I’m fine.”

“Are you sure?”

Jiyong nods against Seunghyun’s neck.  The skin there is still damp with sweat.

“What about your new toy?  What’d you think?”

“I liked it,” Jiyong admits, a tinge of shyness coloring his voice.  He can’t remember the last time he was this desperate to be fucked.  He liked it a lot.

“Enough to wear it out?”

That gets Jiyong’s attention.  “What do you mean?  Out in public?”

Seunghyun gives him this boyish little shrug, letting him know that that’s exactly what he means.  The idea seizes hold of Jiyong and takes root.  Out.  In public.  Right under everyone’s noses.  They’ve never done anything like that before.  They’re both so careful, all the time; Jiyong honestly can’t believe Seunghyun’s even suggesting it.

Except he _is_ suggesting it.  He’s sitting there right now, waiting for an answer, and Jiyong wants it so much, the symbolism of it, the lock over his cock that proves who he belongs to, like the bracelets they used to wear before they were told to stop.

“You’ll be wearing the key?” Jiyong asks, just to be sure.  He wants the symbolism of that just as much.

Seunghyun nods.

Jiyong cuddles up under his chin.  “Yeah, okay.”

 

 

Jiyong’s never been so horny in his life.  He’s geared up and worn thin, and all because of this stupid cage on his dick.  He shifts about in the makeup chair to get more comfortable, but all that does is make him even more aware of the device that’s encasing him.  Seunghyun sits in the chair next to him while the key around his neck flickers in the light.

The cage feels awkward under Jiyong’s zip, and even though his shirt is long enough to cover the slight bulge, he’s still paranoid that people can tell, that they’ll take one look at him and just _know_. 

After the final touches to his hair, Jiyong meets Jieun over by the rack of clothes.  She has a t-shirt and a waist-length bomber jacket held up for him.  Jiyong swallows.  Those definitely won’t be long enough to cover his…problem.

“I figured we’d go with this first.”

Jiyong looks over the two articles, worrying at his lip, and then he starts thumbing through the racks for something a little more suitable for his needs.  He stops when he finds a long white garment that should hit him mid-thigh.  It’s a mini-dress, but Jiyong’s worn it as a shirt before.

“What about this?”

Jieun hums as she looks it over, holding the jacket up next to it to see what she thinks.  “Yeah, that could work.  You’re slim enough that it shouldn’t look too bulky.”

Jiyong nods as he takes the jacket off her hands.  He rubs one hand over his tummy.  “Sorry, I’m just feeling a little bloated today.”

Jieun chuckles at what she assumes is his vanity and leaves him to change.

The moment in between removing one shirt and replacing it with another seems to take an eternity.  He tries to do it as quickly as he can, curling toward the wall to keep anyone from noticing anything, but his left arm tries to slide through the collar twice before he gets it right.

By the time he finally gets the shirt pulled down over his hips, Seunghyun’s standing beside him, smirking.  “That’s a pretty shirt.”

“Shut up,” Jiyong laughs.  He can already feel his cheeks turning pink.  His eyes trail down to Seunghyun’s mouth and further down to the key around his neck.

Seunghyun’s smile is slow and knowing.  “Do you wanna tuck it away for me?”

Jiyong’s fingers itch to run themselves over it.  He nods even as he closes in.  Seunghyun stays absolutely still as Jiyong lifts the key and slides it under the open V of his collar.

Seunghyun ducks his head just a fraction closer as Jiyong adjusts the chain.  “I can’t wait to fuck you when this is done,” he whispers, voice low and sensual next to Jiyong’s ear, a dark counterpoint to the bright bustle around them.  A shiver trickles straight down Jiyong’s spine.

Seunghyun retreats as soon as he comes, pulling away even as Jiyong sways forward to keep him close.  But then Jiyong hears a member of the staff calling for them to get set up in front of the camera, and Jiyong shakes himself out of the haze.

Jiyong follows Seunghyun over to the white backdrop, the other members trickling in to stand with them.  He makes to stand beside Seunghyun, but Youngbae’s already there, cutting him off.  He tries not to let his irritation show as he moves in beside Seungri.

Jiyong bounces a little on the balls of his feet, stretching his arms one way and then the other.  Seunghyun has him even more keyed up than he already was, but it’s time to get down to business.  The sooner they can get their shots, the sooner Seunghyun can take him home.

He thinks he’s good to go, but he can’t stop his eyes from sliding over to Seunghyun one last time.  Seunghyun’s in the middle of rolling his shoulders back and tilting his neck from side to side, the corded tendons shifting with each motion.  Jiyong wants to bite him.

He nudges at Seungri with his elbow.  “Isn’t my boyfriend hot?  Look, he’s so much hotter than you.”

Seungri smiles wryly, “Thanks, Hyung.  I love you, too.”

Jiyong grins.

After hours of photos and wardrobe changes, they’re nearly done.  They’ve long since moved past the group photos and on to the individual shots. 

Jiyong’s done a fairly good job of presenting a professional air in front of the camera, but on the inside, he’s a wreck.  His nipples feel tight and puckered, his cock sensitive from rubbing against its confines all day.  And his thoughts have turned from suggestive to downright _filthy_.  He keeps imagining Seunghyun bending him over the makeup table or shoving him down on set, spreading him open under the hot rays of the studio lights and making him beg for it while everyone watches.

Jiyong’s normally one who likes to play around during these kinds of things, teasing the others and basking in their attention, but today, he mostly keeps to himself.  His fantasies play over and over in his mind, each one more graphic than the one before.

And then he catches a glimpse of leather and the floor drops right out from under him. 

He’s set adrift, the ebb and flow of the tides tossing him about.  Seunghyun’s wearing _gloves_.  They’re not _the_ gloves, but they’re black and they’re leather, and Jiyong wants them on his skin. 

His hyung steps in beside him, flexing his fingers, testing the leather.  “Not bad.  I like mine better.”

Jiyong can’t even reply to that.  He’s lost his ability to speak, his voice locked down tighter than his cock.  He tries to reach for Seunghyun, needy fingers stretching toward him like a flower reaching for the sun, but Seunghyun chuckles and steps out of reach. 

“Behave,” Seunghyun murmurs, and Jiyong’s _gone_.

He feels a surge of devotion so strong it nearly bowls him over.  He’s suddenly weightless in the room, a tiny kite floating high in the sky, his tether to the world growing more and more tenuous the further away Seunghyun moves.  He watches dumbly as Seunghyun takes his position in front of the camera, angling his face while the shutter snaps.

Somewhere off in the distance, Jiyong knows that something’s off, but he can’t quite hold on to the thought; it floats away each time he tries, dispersing before it can coalesce.  All he knows for sure is that he has to stay put.  He doesn’t know how he knows, but he does.  He’s supposed to stay put.  If Seunghyun hasn’t told him to move, he has to stay put.  The world turns around him, and Jiyong doesn’t notice any of it.

Jiyong stays right where he is.  Like a good boy, he doesn’t move.  But his thighs press together and his hands fidget at his sides, and by the time Seunghyun starts heading back his way, he can’t help letting out a low whine.  The sound is soft and small and not entirely human, and though no one else seems to hear him, Seunghyun’s eyes cut straight toward him.

He’s right in front of Jiyong then, though Jiyong has no recollection of how he got there, no idea when he took the steps necessary to connect them.  Jiyong curls in on himself at Seunghyun’s presence, head bowing toward his chest.

Strong hands take hold of his shoulders.  Seunghyun ducks down to get a better look at him, eyes darting back and forth between his own.  “Shit,” Seunghyun mutters, and then Jiyong’s being turned about and ushered out of the room. 

They make it all the way to the bathroom.  Seunghyun half-carries him in and locks them away in the furthest stall.

“Jiyong?” he says, hands raising to frame his face.

Jiyong.  That’s his name.  He can’t think past that, though.  There’s a sense of alarm in Seunghyun’s voice, but Jiyong doesn’t understand why.  Everything’s fine now.  Seunghyun’s here.  Jiyong presses forward and rubs against Seunghyun like a cat, snuggling in even closer when warm, protective arms curl around him.

Seunghyun chuckles and pets his hair.  “You’re such a mess.”

Seunghyun holds him and strokes him until he comes back to himself, his kite string winding back around the spool.  Jiyong looks up at him with dopey eyes, wrung dry without ever even exerting himself.

“What just happened?” he murmurs.

Seunghyun laughs, a smile dimpling his cheeks.  “You dropped.  I didn’t even know it could happen like that.”

Jiyong blinks a bit at Seunghyun’s words.  Everything feels oddly lucid in hindsight.  He remembers leather gloves and a soft command for him to behave.  He remembers floating away.

“Fuck,” Jiyong says, a soft giggle lilting out of him.  Dropping into subspace is hardly new for him, but it’s never happened like _this_.  “I don’t know how that happened.”  It was different than the other times, not as deep, but still potent in the way it drug him under.

Now that Jiyong’s mostly coherent again, Seunghyun’s worry fades away.  He gives Jiyong warm looks and even warmer touches and pushes him gently against the wall to kiss him.  Jiyong slumps against the wall as Seunghyun’s mouth slides over his.  He opens himself up to the aching sweetness of it.

He has no idea how long they stay like this, caught up in each other in this little stall.  Too long, he’s sure, but he can’t bring himself to stop.  He stays boneless in Seunghyun’s arms and lets himself be kissed.

Their bubble is burst by outside forces, though, just like it normally is.  The bathroom door swings open, and Seunghyun immediately hoists Jiyong up off his feet.  Jiyong fights off a giggle as he’s lifted up against the wall, his legs curling around Seunghyun’s waist.  Seunghyun covers his mouth to shush him.

“Top-hyung?” Seungri calls out.

Seunghyun’s eyes bore into Jiyong’s.  “Yeah?”

“Have you seen Jiyong-hyung?  He’s up next.”

“Nope.” 

Jiyong’s feet dangle at Seunghyun’s sides, high enough not to be visible under the door of the stall.

“Oh.  Okay.  I guess I must’ve missed him.”  Seungri’s steps get softer as he pads away, but then the sounds come to a halt.  “Just so you know, they want to get a few more group shots after Jiyong-hyung.”

“Alright,” Seunghyun calls back, his hips notched right between Jiyong’s thighs.  He gives Jiyong a slow once over.  “I’m almost done here.”

Heat floods through Jiyong’s body.  He drags a lewd kiss across Seunghyun’s palm as Seungri leaves the room.  Seunghyun grins and slots their mouths together one last time.

 

 

The ride back to Seunghyun’s villa is the longest ride of Jiyong’s life.  He’s restless in his seat, idle fingers plucking at a loose thread of his scarf.  Seunghyun’s gazing out the window, watching the buildings slide by.

Once they arrive, Seunghyun leads the way to the door, which he then wordlessly opens for him.  Jiyong slips by him and starts toeing off his shoes.  His body is humming in anticipation, but he’s trying not to let it show.  The more impatient he gets, the longer Seunghyun makes him wait.

It’s a struggle to contain himself, though.  He’s beyond primed.  He’s spent the whole day locked in a cage of his own desire, filthy thoughts writhing around in his mind.  Even the heat of the studio lights had felt sexual.

Seunghyun heads straight for the kitchen once they’re inside and pours himself a glass of wine.  “I still can’t believe you dropped right in the middle of a photoshoot.”

“Me neither.”

Seunghyun offers up his glass, but Jiyong shakes his head.  He doesn’t want any.  All he wants is Seunghyun, but his boyfriend seems determined to drag this out.

The wine swirls around in the glass.  “I like this,” Seunghyun says, gesturing toward Jiyong’s groin.  “I like knowing you’re wearing it.”

Jiyong grows warm, the same way he always does when Seunghyun’s pleased with him.  “I’m glad _you’re_ happy,” he laughs.  “I’ve been a nervous wreck all day.  Every time I changed clothes, I was paranoid someone would see.”

“I know,” Seunghyun snickers.  “I thought for sure you’d give us away.  You kept staring at me all day.”

“It’s not my fault!” Jiyong defends.  “I can’t control myself like you can.  I’m not a _rock_.”

Seunghyun laughs into his wineglass.  “And I am?”

“ _Yes_.”  Jiyong thinks about all the times he’s watched Seunghyun, never to catch him watching back.  “It’s just easier for you, that’s all.”  Jiyong doesn’t mean for it to, but some of the playfulness seeps out of his voice, his tone revealing a kind of sadness he’s kept secreted away these past few days.

“What is?”

Jiyong looks down and away.  “Everything.  This whole thing.” 

It’s an answer, but it’s not a very specific one, and Seunghyun’s hardly satisfied with it.  “Like what?”

Jiyong keeps his eyes slanted away from Seunghyun as he responds, “Like I said, everything.  It’s easier for you to act like there’s nothing between us, to pretend like I’m not there.”  His shoulders droop under their own weight.  “Sometimes you’re so good at it you even have _me_ convinced.  Sometimes I feel like you don’t even see me.”

An unreadable expression crosses over Seunghyun’s face.  He’s quiet for a long time, just watching.  Jiyong can feel him thinking, calculating, but he doesn’t know where those calculations are taking him.

“You’re doing it again,” Seunghyun finally says.  “Mistaking control for indifference.”

Jiyong knows immediately what Seunghyun’s referring to, the conversation that started this new thing between them, something Jiyong privately thinks of as their breakthrough.  He remembers his words to Seunghyun that day:  _I want you to be as crazy about me as I am about you.  I want you to be so into me that you can’t control yourself._

And Seunghyun’s response:  _I am crazy about you_. _You have no idea_.

That’s what Seunghyun had said, but Jiyong hadn’t believed, not until Seunghyun had put his gloved hands on him and proved it to be true.

He understands the point Seunghyun’s making now, but there’s a stone lodged inside him that just won’t shake loose.  There’s always a loser in love, and Jiyong’s always known it’s him.

Something in Jiyong’s face earns a reaction from Seunghyun.  Seunghyun’s expression changes from unreadable to resolute.  He sets his wineglass down on the counter in one slow, deliberate motion and then pushes off towards him.

Jiyong’s face tilts up as Seunghyun stalks toward him, tilts even further as Seunghyun crowds into his space.  Seunghyun doesn’t stop till they’re toe to toe, chest to chest, hardened eyes staring down into Jiyong’s upturned face.

Jiyong’s mouth goes dry.  He feels small with Seunghyun looming over him like this.  Seunghyun stares down at him, a tower of tightly coiled intent; intent for what, Jiyong doesn’t know, but his body is thrumming in the face of it.  The intent manifests as a firm hold around Jiyong’s bicep and a yank towards the hall.  Seunghyun’s fingers dig bruises into Jiyong’s arm as he marches them to the bedroom.

Jiyong’s pushed up against the door the moment it closes behind them, Seunghyun pressing in with his hips, his hands, his lips.  Teeth rake over Jiyong’s throat, teeth and lips and the hot wisp of a tongue.  Jiyong’s head falls back against the door as his hips cant forward in a bid for more contact.  Seunghyun shoves Jiyong’s hips right back against the door and pins them there.

“You really think it’s that easy for me?” Seunghyun rasps, mouth and teeth pressed right against Jiyong’s skin.  “You think I just turn it off?  Just like that?”

Jiyong shivers in Seunghyun’s hold.  Seunghyun’s like a force of nature crashing over him, like an undertow pulling him down and down and in.  Jiyong reaches up to clutch at him, but Seunghyun catches hold of him and pins his wrists next.  Jiyong’s held there, wrists and hips nailed to the door, chest puffing up and down with each rapid breath he takes.

“It’s like you don’t know me at all.”  Seunghyun’s nose and mouth nudge at Jiyong’s jaw till Jiyong’s forced to tilt his head to the side and offer up his throat.  Jiyong writhes against the press of Seunghyun’s chest and sighs when Seunghyun’s teeth sink in.  He goes limp, like a kitten held up by the scruff of the neck.  Seunghyun laves the abraded skin with his tongue.

“I watch you more than you think,” Seunghyun says, low enough that Jiyong has to strain to hear.  “I always know right where you are.  When you enter a room.  When you leave it.  When you smile at someone other than me.  When you _touch_ someone other than me.”  And darker yet, “When they touch _you_.”

Jiyong’s eyes flutter open and closed.  The words come alive in the space between them, that tiny sliver of space between Seunghyun’s mouth and Jiyong’s throat; they burn and glow long after Seunghyun spills them against Jiyong’s skin. 

Jiyong pants as Seunghyun’s lips find him again.  He gulps down a mouthful of air, struggles to breathe against the suffocating closeness of Seunghyun’s weight.  He’s flooded with little memories of the past few days, things he’d noticed and dismissed, the way Seunghyun’s eyes had cut straight toward the sound of his laughter at the club, the way he’d heard Jiyong’s whine at their photoshoot and known exactly what it meant.

Seunghyun drags his cheek against Jiyong’s and exhales wet heat against the skin there.  “I see _everything._ ”

Jiyong shudders at Seunghyun’s words, his heart thumping wildly.  He’s like a junkie, euphoric from a long-sought-after dose, flushed and pliant at the height of it. 

Seunghyun’s hands press his wrists back into the door and then let go completely.  They wrap themselves up in one trailing end of Jiyong’s scarf.  “Take off your clothes,” Seunghyun says, even as he drags the scarf from Jiyong’s neck, fabric slithering free like a serpent.

It takes a beat for Jiyong to regain himself.  His wrists feel naked and vulnerable now that Seunghyun is no longer holding them.  His hands shake as he brings them to the hem of his shirt and again once they take hold of his fly. 

As soon as his clothes are done away with, Seunghyun’s hands are back on his wrists, tugging them together and binding them with one end of the scarf.  Seunghyun tugs a little to make sure the knot will hold, and then he ties a second knot in the other end. 

“Hands up,” Seunghyun says.

Jiyong obeys, raising his bound wrists high over his head.  He jumps when Seunghyun pulls the door open behind him, tossing the second knot over the top of it and slamming it back shut.  Jiyong tugs at his hands, but the knot catches on the other side of the closed door and he’s trapped.

Seunghyun takes two steps back and looks over his handiwork.  Jiyong’s bare of all but his little cage.  The door is cold at his back.  He arches forward to get away from it, the scarf pulling taut.

“That’s a good look for you,” Seunghyun muses.  He unbuttons one of his cuffs and calmly rolls it up his forearm, then moves on to the other.  “Maybe I’ll keep you this way.”

Jiyong pulls at his binds again, but all it does is make the knot pull tighter, like a Chinese finger trap that clamps down the more you struggle.  He can feel himself hardening within the device, but he’s just as trapped there as he is everywhere else.

Seunghyun opens the top button of his shirt next.  Then another.  Jiyong can see the glint of the chain in the opening of his shirt.  Seunghyun slowly pulls it out and lets the key rest over his chest, right next to his heart.  Jiyong sways forward at the sight, an unconscious attempt to bring himself closer to it.  The scarf cuts into his wrists in warning.

Seunghyun heads to the nightstand, next.  Jiyong knows what he’s going for before Seunghyun even opens the drawer.  Seunghyun’s back is toward him, but Jiyong can still see the movement of his arms, the shift of muscles beneath his shirt as he sets about his task.  The sound of leather being stretched and tested carries over to Jiyong’s ears, and then Seunghyun’s turning back around.

The gloves are on.  Soft and supple and full of dark promise, Seunghyun’s hands look even bigger than they normally do.  Jiyong’s hole clenches down on nothing, and he nearly whimpers at how empty he feels.  Jiyong’s conditioned for this now, for the sight of the gloves.  Like Pavlov’s dog salivating at the sound of a bell, Jiyong’s body hums at the sight of them.  He’s flushed and aching in the cage, all of his will straining against it.  _Please_ , he wants to beg, but he doesn’t.  Because he doesn’t yet have permission. 

Seunghyun pulls something else out of the drawer and then makes his way back to Jiyong.  Jiyong’s heart thumps with each step Seunghyun takes.  In anticipation.  In _longing_.  Seunghyun’s focus is completely on him, and Jiyong’s never felt more real.

Seunghyun has a blindfold in his hands.  He holds it up in front of Jiyong’s eyes and slowly draws it closer.  Jiyong gets one last look at the possessiveness in Seunghyun’s gaze before everything goes dark.

A hand slips between Jiyong’s legs and cups him through the cage.  “I was going to take this off when we got home,” Seunghyun says.  “But now I don’t think I will.”

Seunghyun pulls on the device, just a gentle tug forward, and Jiyong cries out, growing impossibly hard in his confines, as hard as the cage will allow.

“As far as I’m concerned, you can stay locked in there for good.”  His hand slips further back and rubs roughly at Jiyong’s hole.  “All I need is this right here.”

Jiyong bucks at his touch, a sharp movement that pitches his hips away from the door and knocks them right back into it.

Without warning, his hair is tugged sharply to the right.  “I’m gonna fuck you while you wear it,” Seunghyun grits, gravel where his voice was once silk.  “I’m gonna fuck you over and over again till your body can’t take it anymore.  And I’m never gonna let you come.”

Jiyong sinks his teeth into his lip to stop his moan from spilling out.  He leans further into Seunghyun’s grip to ease the pull on his hair. 

Seunghyun releases him, then.  His body is an immovable mountain one moment, and completely gone the next.  Jiyong holds his breath, strains to hear what’s happening around him.  He hears Seunghyun’s soft footsteps against the carpet and a slight rummage through a drawer.  He trembles at the thought of what Seunghyun might pull out of it.

He _feels_ more than hears Seunghyun return to him, something in the air that prickles his skin and lets him know Seunghyun’s close.  Jiyong waits for what comes next with bated breath.

The first thing he feels is the touch of a glove, soft leather running up and down his ribs.  It finds his nipple and stays there, dragging over it till it’s puckered into a bud.  And then he feels Seunghyun’s _mouth_.  The heat of it surprises him, Seunghyun’s tongue flicking over one little peak before sucking it between his teeth.  Jiyong’s heart hammers against Seunghyun’s mouth. 

The next thing he feels is some sort of object, smooth and cool to the touch.  It slides down the side of his throat and into the cup of his shoulder.  Jiyong jumps when it starts to buzz.

“I brought you something,” Seunghyun murmurs.

Seunghyun slides it over Jiyong’s skin, turning it off and on at random intervals so Jiyong never knows what to expect.  It creeps down the line of his sternum and buzzes in the crease of his hip.  His cage suddenly feels hot and sticky, a blot of precome leaking into it.

There’s a softness to the vibrator’s caress, a sort of slow cadence that lulls Jiyong into a warm sense of security, and then Seunghyun kicks his legs apart.  Jiyong stumbles at the abrupt motion, falling forward till his binds catch him and sway him back.  He regains his balance in this new position, legs spread, and then the vibrator is sliding up between them.  It massages over his balls, the skin behind them.  Jiyong tenses when it nudges against his hole, dry and imposing.  Seunghyun pushes it in, just the very tip, enough for Jiyong to feel the stretch, enough for him to hiss at the burn. 

“Do you like that?” Seunghyun breathes.  His voice is coming from slightly to Jiyong’s left.  Jiyong clenches down hard enough it pushes the vibrator out.  Seunghyun chuckles.  “You’re gonna be so tight, I can tell already.”

Jiyong sucks in a breath at that, body falling back against the door.  All he can see is black, but he can imagine so much more, the cut of Seunghyun’s jaw, the heat in his eyes, the slight parting of his lips.  Jiyong imagines all of it while the sound of Seunghyun’s voice lilts into his ears.

The buzzing stops.  The vibrator pulls away and so does Seunghyun, and when he leans back in, he tugs one of Jiyong’s legs up, slides his arm under it and lets it drape over the hook of his elbow.  It opens Jiyong up, transforms vulnerable into helpless.  Jiyong blinks behind the blindfold, sees black when he closes his eyes and black again when he opens them.

When the vibrator touches him again, it’s slick.  It leaves a sticky trail along his inner thigh as Seunghyun drags it toward its destination.  Jiyong’s already desperate for it.  There’s something about having his cock locked away that makes him even more eager to be fucked.  Without the use of his cock, the only way for him to find release is for Seunghyun to fuck it out of him.

The dildo is silent as it teases its way inside, smooth and quiet as it slips in and out of him.  It’s thick, so fucking thick, and Jiyong has to take in two deep, steadying breathes to relax enough for him to take it.

It slides back into him, and the angle inside him shifts, and then the switch is flipped.  Jiyong spasms against the sudden pulse against his prostate.  Seunghyun rubs it there casually. 

“That feel good?” he asks, working the vibrator slowly in and out of him.  The leg Jiyong’s balanced on trembles and shakes.  He nods his head.  “Good,” Seunghyun says, and starts thrusting faster.

Seunghyun fucks into him with the toy.  It plunges into him again and again.  Jiyong can hear the wet sound it makes, the sound of his own breaths, the pleased hum Seunghyun makes against Jiyong’s ear.  He can hear his blood racing under his skin.

Jiyong has no idea how long it lasts; he gets lost between the minutes of it, doesn’t know when one passes and another arrives.  Seunghyun works him up again and again, shoves the vibrator right up inside him and lets it wreak its havoc on Jiyong’s insides, and once Jiyong’s writhing and squirming and fighting at his restraints, fighting to get _away_ because it’s just too fucking _much_ , Seunghyun will retreat, drawing the toy nearly all the way out.

Jiyong keens when Seunghyun does it again, thrusts the vibrator right against that spot inside him that makes the world light up despite the cover over his eyes.  White sparks crackle behind Jiyong’s eyelids as Seunghyun forces him right up to the edge and holds him there.  His body forms a sharp arc away from the door, taut as a well-strung bow.  The leg he’s standing on shakes so bad it buckles, the knot around his wrists catching him as his body tries to drop.  He sways hard to the side.  Seunghyun grunts, shifting in to lend Jiyong some of his strength, lifting up on the leg he’s still holding and pushing Jiyong’s tailbone back into the door.

Jiyong’s head thrashes wildly as Seunghyun fucks into him.  “That’s it,” Seunghyun coos.  “ _Take it_.”

His nostrils flare at Seunghyun’s words.  His hips swivel with renewed determination in the face of Seunghyun’s command.  They bang back against the door as Jiyong fucks himself on the vibrator.  Because Jiyong wants to _please_ Seunghyun.  He wants to earn his praise.  He wants to reshape himself into exactly what Seunghyun wants.  It’s the only reason he exists now.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Seunghyun mutters.

The cage is tight around Jiyong’s cock, but even so, he can feel his orgasm closing in.  His hips stutter forward and tense, mouth falling open as the vibrator shifts inside him just so –

Seunghyun pulls away. 

The vibrator slides out of him as Seunghyun’s warmth recedes.  Jiyong feels like he’s gonna cry.  He sways in his bonds and then yanks at them in frustration.

And then Seunghyun’s back in front of him.  His chest is bare this time; Jiyong can feel the slide of skin as his hyung presses in against him, can feel the raised muscles of Seunghyun’s pecs brushing over the slender plane of Jiyong’s own chest.  Seunghyun’s cock feels like velvet against Jiyong’s hip.

Seunghyun rubs the soft head against Jiyong’s hipbone.  “Do you want it?”

Jiyong’s allowed to answer questions, but he can’t find his voice to.  He gives Seunghyun a helpless nod.

“Say it.”

Jiyong’s whole body trembles.  “I want it,” he croaks, little more than a breath.

“You want _what?_ ”

Oh god.  “I want you to fuck me.”

“Over and over again?”  An echo of Seunghyun’s earlier promise.

“Over and over again,” Jiyong agrees.  His head falls back against the door.

“Till your body can’t take it?”

“ _Yes_ ,” Jiyong nearly sobs.  He writhes against the door, strung up by his scarf.  “ _Please_.”

“I’m still not gonna let you come,” Seunghyun says, and Jiyong does cry this time, at the unfairness of it, at the _wanting_ of it.  He rolls his hips forward in search of the torture Seunghyun’s promising, a twisted contradiction, desperate for relief, equally desperate he not be given any.

“ _Please_ ,” Jiyong begs.  Seunghyun smacks his flank and gives it a sharp squeeze, a warning against anymore talking without permission.  Jiyong laughs, high and hysterical, a laugh that’s nothing more than a disguised sob.  Seunghyun digs his fingers in _hard_ , and Jiyong chokes off the sound.

And then there are lips.  Ravenous and demanding, Seunghyun takes hold of Jiyong’s chin and forces his mouth open.  Jiyong moans as Seunghyun’s tongue spears right into his mouth.  The kiss is fast and disorienting, like being on the losing side of battle, pinned down by enemy fire.  Jiyong arches into Seunghyun and offers himself up.

He hears Seunghyun growl and then shove him back, and then Seunghyun’s hoisting him up, crashing against him with barely restrained violence.  Seunghyun’s mouth is everywhere, teeth and tongue sliding over Jiyong’s throat and shoulder, his collarbone.  Jiyong hisses as Seunghyun moves against him, sliding ineffectually between his cheeks till he finally stops and shifts and shoves right up inside.

Jiyong gasps as Seunghyun fills him, as gravity tugs him down and forces him to take the whole length in one smooth, hot slide.  Seunghyun burrows in all the way to the root, adjusts his grip, then starts pounding into him. 

It burns, the stretch of it, the thickness of Seunghyun’s girth.  It burns and it aches, and it feels so damn _good_.  There’s pleasure and there’s pain, and Jiyong doesn’t know which he craves more.  Seunghyun’s mouth slicks pleasure along Jiyong’s throat, then sinks his teeth in hard enough to hurt.  Jiyong cries out before Seunghyun can draw blood.

There’s slack in his bonds now, but not enough to be of any use to him, so he curls his hands up into the scarf and uses it as a tether.

Seunghyun’s everywhere, in everything.  He’s the door behind Jiyong’s back, the knot around his wrists.  He’s the searing heat shooting along Jiyong’s spine.

There’s always that moment, when they do this.  That moment where Jiyong knows whether he’ll come or he’ll drop.  This is no different.  Jiyong knows he’s going under, can feel the promise of it softening his senses.

He’s _exhausted_ , pushed past the limits of what he can possibly endure.  Seunghyun pounds him back against the door hard enough to knock the breath out of him.  The pain of it fights against the pleasure.  There’s the burn of the scarf, the bite of Seunghyun’s teeth, a grip so tight it just might break him, and the overwhelming _rightness_ of Seunghyun’s cock splitting him open.

Jiyong surrenders himself to it all.

“ _Mine_ ,” Seunghyun whispers, and the world falls away.

The world, or himself.  Jiyong’s not sure which.  He goes limp in Seunghyun’s hold, body little more than a dead weight.  His eyes glaze over as his head lulls forward onto Seunghyun’s shoulder.  He’s flying, somehow.  Flying, free and untethered, slipping further and further away.

The pain is gone, whatever pain there was.  Now it all just feels _good_.  He feels drunk with it, how good it feels, drunk and dazed and full of a slow, lazy bliss. 

Seunghyun’s still fucking up into him, grunting as he moves, hips hammering frantically against Jiyong’s ass, but it all feels far away, like it’s happening in another world, a hazy mirror to the new place he’s found himself in.

Jiyong stays pliant as a doll, body bobbing with each brutal thrust, his face cuddled into the crook of Seunghyun’s neck.  His thoughts crumble and break apart like wet sand the further under he goes, until there’s nothing, no awareness, no anything.  Nothing at all but Seunghyun.  Seunghyun surrounds him and fills him up, fills him so full there’s no room for anything else.

“ _Good_ ,” Jiyong hears, and everything goes blank.

 

 

The next thing Jiyong registers is tiny pinpricks of light slitting into his eyes.  He blinks, then closes his eyes against them.  The blindfold is pushed the rest of the way from his face.  His hands are free, but he has no memory of how that happened.  He still feels sluggish and drugged and all too far away, and he’s not ready to come back.

“Are you okay?” he hears Seunghyun whisper.  Seunghyun’s arms are around him, holding him up.

Jiyong plants his face against Seunghyun’s throat instead of responding.  Seunghyun chuckles and scoops him up.  The world shifts around him as Seunghyun carries him away. 

Seunghyun lowers them down once they get to wherever they’re going, all the way down to the floor.  Jiyong curls up in Seunghyun’s lap and listens as water starts to run.  There’s another sound too, one that Jiyong can’t quite make out, the sound of a quiet rattle.  Then he realizes it’s him.  It’s his own teeth chattering.  Seunghyun pulls him close and rubs at his arm, driving some of the warmth back into him.

After a moment, Seunghyun slides Jiyong gently off his lap.  Jiyong’s hand snatches at Seunghyun’s wrist in fear.  _No_ , he thinks.  _Don’t leave me_.

But Seunghyun’s already leaning back in.  “It’s okay,” he soothes.  “I’m here.”  A kiss to Jiyong’s eyebrow, “I’m not going anywhere.”

Jiyong settles back down.  He watches, dazed, as Seunghyun slides a chain up over his head.  He knows this is significant, but he can’t think of why that is, doesn’t even want to try.  He feels a slight pressure to his groin, a whisper of a touch, and then the feeling of being freed.

“Come on, baby,” Seunghyun says, scooping him back up. 

Seunghyun raises one foot up and then the other, and then he’s lowering them down into a pool of warmth.  Jiyong lets out a soft whine of protest at the sudden change, but Seunghyun shushes him and pulls him further against his chest.  “It’s okay.  I’ve got you.”

Seunghyun holds him close and runs soothing hands over his skin.  His hands are still broad and strong, but now they’re made of nothing but tenderness.

“You’re mine,” Seunghyun whispers, but to Jiyong it sounds like _I love you_.  “No one else can have you.  Not ever.”

_I’ll love you for the rest of my life._

Jiyong snuggles in as close as he can.  The water warms him, the water and Seunghyun’s arms, and Jiyong no longer feels cold.

Seunghyun bathes him after that.  He takes his time with it, long, lazy strokes of the sponge.  He washes all the sweat away, and the come.  Washes him till he’s fresh and clean and _new_.  Seunghyun massages shampoo into Jiyong’s hair and then gently tilts Jiyong’s head back so he can rinse it out.

Jiyong’s surprised when he realizes he’s giggling, can’t remember why he started, has no idea what provoked it.  He touches his mouth to Seunghyun’s throat and the sound of it stops.  It starts again when he starts lapping up water droplets one by one.

There’s a chuckle.  Jiyong can hear it rumble up from the chest he’s pressed against.  He tips his head back against the support of Seunghyun’s arm so he can gaze up at the source. 

Seunghyun’s face is beautiful.  There’s something about it that puts Jiyong at ease, something that makes him feel cherished and safe.  Seunghyun tucks Jiyong’s head under his chin, and they stay like that until the water starts to cool.

Jiyong feels a little more lucid by the time Seunghyun tugs him out.  He stands on shaky legs as Seunghyun towels him off.  Seunghyun frowns when he catches sight of Jiyong’s wrists.  There are angry welts from where the scarf dug into his skin.

“I hurt you,” Seunghyun whispers.

And Jiyong says, “I let you.”

There’s still a vulnerability about Seunghyun’s eyes, but he doesn’t try to argue.  He just draws one of Jiyong’s worn wrists up to his lips and presses his mouth to the pulse.  They’re caught together in a fragile bubble.  They move within in it, slow and careful, as if one false move might tear this new shelter apart.  All of the insecurities Jiyong’s been storing up are gone; they have no place here.

Seunghyun moves the towel in gentle strokes over Jiyong’s skin and finishes drying him off.  When he’s done, Jiyong holds his arms out, like a child expecting to be picked up.  Seunghyun doesn’t even hesitate.  He sweeps Jiyong up off his feet and carries him all the way to the bed.

“You should carry me everywhere,” Jiyong says, sleepily.  “If I were the Dom, I’d make that a rule.  My feet would never touch the ground.”

Seunghyun chuckles.  “I’ll take that under consideration.”

Jiyong spends the rest of the day like that, snuggled up to Seunghyun in bed, and Seunghyun indulges him.  Seunghyun gives Jiyong all the attention he could ever want, freely, unreservedly, and each time Jiyong reaches for him, Seunghyun’s there, waiting to answer his summons.

Seunghyun feeds him soup and applies ointment to his wrists.  He kisses every purpling bruise on Jiyong’s body.

“I love you,” Seunghyun whispers to him, and for the first time in weeks, Jiyong doesn’t think, _yes, but I love you more_.

 

 

Jiyong goes shopping with Chaerin a couple days later.  They work their way through Corso Como and stop for lunch once they’re done.  Jiyong wears a long-sleeved shirt to cover his wrists.  He’d tried to put on his watch that morning, but the metal had chaffed and stung so he’d taken it back off.

The waiter brings out their food and sets it down in front of them.  Chaerin gets her chopsticks in hand and starts plucking at her noodles.

“How’s Seunghyun-oppa?” she asks.

“He’s good.  He’s been working on a new song.”

Chaerin grins.  “For his solo album?”  She says it with a laugh; the subject of Seunghyun’s long-delayed solo album has become a recurring joke.

Jiyong snickers and nods.  He pushes his shirt sleeves up out of habit before he starts picking over the food on his plate.  “I keep offering to help him, but he won’t let me.  He wants to do it on his own.”

When he looks up next, he pauses at the strange look on Chaerin’s face.  She’s looking downwards, eyes arrested by something near the table.  Jiyong looks down to see what has her attention and nearly swears.  He pushes his sleeves back down, self-conscious.

He wants that to be the end of it, but Chaerin’s still staring, at his face this time, eyes full of pained concern.  She’s looking at him as if he’s some battered wife.  “Did he do that to you?”

Jiyong laughs, but all that does is make her worry even more pronounced. 

“It’s not how it looks,” Jiyong says.  “It’s nothing bad.”

Chaerin looks doubtfully at Jiyong’s wrists, and Jiyong bristles.  He can be just as protective of Seunghyun as Seunghyun is of him, and he hates the thought of someone having the wrong impression of his boyfriend.  Seunghyun is the kindest person he knows.

“Why are you being so weird about this?” Jiyong says, a touch defensive.  “You knew we did things like this.  I told you he ties me up.”

“Yeah, but I didn’t know it was like _this_.  I didn’t know he actually _hurt_ you.”

“That’s what a _safeword_ is for.  I can stop it any time I want.”

She gives him a dubious look.  It’s almost pitying, like Jiyong’s the one who doesn’t understand, like he’s brainwashed and in need of rescue.

Jiyong lets out a small noise of frustration.  He knew Chaerin wouldn’t get it.  “You don’t understand.  I _want_ it.  It’s not –” he bites the words off mid-sentence and tries for something else, “It’s about _trust_.  It’s about putting yourself under someone else’s complete control and trusting them not to take advantage of it.”

“And you’re sure he’s not?  Taking advantage?”

“What?  _No_.”  He finds the very notion distasteful.  Out of all the insecurities Jiyong’s ever had, this has never been one of them.  “He never does anything I don’t want.  He never _would_.”

Jiyong’s vehemence finally changes something in Chaerin’s face.  “Okay,” she says, backing down.  “I just wanted to make sure.  I care about you, that’s all.”

Jiyong calms at that.  That’s something he can understand, even if it’s unnecessary.

They both find their way back to their food.  They chew in silence, using their meal as a way to pass through the awkward air.

After a long span of quiet, Chaerin points at one of his wrists with her chopsticks.  “What did he use this time?”

Jiyong knows what this is, a peace offering, and he takes it as such.  He rubs his hand over his covered wrist and replies wryly, “He tied me to a door with my own scarf.”

A slow grin creeps across Chaerin’s face.  “Hot.”

A giggle works its way out of his throat.  He can feel the blush blossoming in his cheeks.  She wiggles a suggestive eyebrow up and down, and they both laugh, back on even ground.

 

 

The next time they’re set to perform, Jiyong and the other members wait backstage in the dressing room until it’s time to go on.  Jiyong’s hair and makeup is already done, as is Seunghyun’s.  They’re sitting together on a low sofa while the staff bustles around them.

Seunghyun’s not looking at him.  He’s looking out instead, watching as Youngbae ruffles Seungri’s hair the moment the stylist pronounces it done.  Seungri sputters and whips around, but Youngbae’s already out of reach, laughing along with the hair stylist as she sets about fixing it.

Seunghyun’s not watching Jiyong, but like always, Jiyong’s watching him.  His gaze slides over Seunghyun’s smile, down to the exposed notch of his collarbone.  His eyes narrow when he sees a glint of silver.  He shifts toward it before he can stop himself, and Seunghyun’s eyes are on him then, called over by the quiet reach of Jiyong’s hand.

Seunghyun watches as Jiyong’s fingers dip under the collar of his shirt and fish out the chain.  A tiny key comes out along with it.  It shines against Jiyong’s palm.

“But I’m not even wearing it,” he says, looking back up at Seunghyun.  He hasn’t worn the cage since Seunghyun fucked him against the door.

Seunghyun shrugs.  There’s a smile hidden in the corner of his mouth, small and full of sweetness.  Jiyong finds himself hopelessly endeared.

Soon, it’s time to take their marks.  They file out of the dressing room and head to their opening positions backstage.  One by one, each member is handed a mic. 

They still have a bit before it’s time to take the stage so Seunghyun lingers near Jiyong’s spot.  He bounces on the balls of his feet, eager to start.  The key bounces with him over his shirt.  Seunghyun stops once he notices it and tucks it back away.

Jiyong stares at the spot where the key once dangled feeling a little sad.  “I wish people could know that you’re mine.”

He wishes he could take it back the moment he says it – he has a bad habit of saying things that are best left unsaid.  Seunghyun’s been so good to him lately, and Jiyong doesn’t want him to think that he’s ungrateful.

Seunghyun doesn’t seem fazed, though.  He just smiles down at him.  “Do you want me to tell them?” he asks.  “I can, if you want.”  He holds his mic up near his mouth and taps on it.  “Is this thing on?”

Jiyong slaps his hand over Seunghyun’s mouth to stop him from inadvertently bringing about the end of their careers.  Seunghyun laughs against Jiyong’s palm.  Jiyong knows the mics aren’t on yet, but still.

“Are you _crazy_?” Jiyong says, but his eyes are crinkling happily and his smile is alive on his face. 

Seunghyun dips in so he can whisper in Jiyong’s ear.  “You’re not the only one who’s devoted.”

Warmth blossoms in Jiyong’s chest and radiates out to the rest of his body.  He feels it all the way in his fingertips.  Seunghyun pulls back, giddy, beyond pleased with himself, and Jiyong laughs and slaps at his chest.

Soonho’s beside them then, near frantic, gesturing for Seunghyun to head to his mark.  “You’re gonna miss your cue!”

Seunghyun grins like a naughty schoolboy who’s been caught misbehaving.  He bats at Jiyong’s cheek before dashing off.  Jiyong’s smile trails after him.

Three more beats and their intro starts.  Jiyong cocks his head from side to side and puts on his game face.  The venue lights dim, and the stage lights turn up, and all five members are revealed.

He and Seunghyun go out on stage and back into their closet.  Back into their _cage_.  They play with the others and pretend like they’re strangers, and Seunghyun doesn’t look his way.

But somewhere in the next to last song, Seunghyun flubs the steps and catches Jiyong’s eye and _smiles_.  It’s a tiny little thing in a big sea of moments, but it’s for Jiyong and no one else.

And Jiyong thinks, maybe a cage isn’t just for keeping them in. 

Maybe it’s for keeping the rest of the world _out_.

 

 

 


End file.
